The Creative Process in Real Life: 16 Client Micro-Moments That Send My Brain Into Cartwheel Mode
The creative process isn’t a straight line. At least not for me. It’s an emotional obstacle course built from tiny, ridiculous, exhilarating moments. Not the big milestones, not the signed contracts, not the 47-page briefs. It’s the micro-sparks.
A client’s offhand comment. A rogue Slack message. A beautifully unhinged request delivered with the confidence of a man named Chad who’s never opened a Google Doc.
These moments don’t just shape the work: they are the work. They flip switches, change direction, pour gasoline on the right idea, or send me spiraling into delightful creative content marketing madness.
This is a field guide to those sacred instigators: the micro-moments that activate me as a content marketing strategist and crack open the door to better copywriting, sharper brand insight, and creative copy that flips the brand or project on its head in the best way.
Welcome to my cartwheel zone.
1. “Can you make it… weirder?”
There’s a special place in my heart for the clients who understand that “weird” is where originality stops whispering and starts screaming.
The thing that happens: A client asks for chaos.
What it feels like: Someone just tossed me a spellbook and said, “Go nuts.”
What my brain says: “Oh sweet summer child, you have no idea how weird I can legally get.”
The best ideas are born in the wild edges of the creative process, and this is where I thrive when working on brand voice projects. “Weird” isn’t a risk to me; it’s the birthplace of unforgettable creative work.
2. “We can drop an F-bomb or two in the copy.”
Nothing delights me more than a client realizing their audience can handle honesty—and humanity.
The thing that happens: A client decides to swear.
What it feels like: A choir of punk-rock angels stage-dive off my shoulder.
What my brain says: “About fucking time!”
Strong brand voice development starts where the bullshit ends. Swearing isn’t about shock value. It’s about letting the brand finally exhale.
3. “We want the copy to feel… expensive.”
When someone asks for “expensive,” they’re really asking for emotional texture: copy that feels like cashmere.
The thing that happens: A client wants luxury vibes without adding a single ounce of luxury.
What it feels like: Being asked to turn tap water into Dom Pérignon.
What my brain says: “Say less! I’ve always wanted to write from the perspective of a trust fund baby.”
Good copy doesn’t mimic wealth, but it does manufacture desire.
4. “Approved. No notes.”
A “no notes” email is the equivalent of a standing ovation in the brand world. This is the creative quadrant of the Bermuda Triangle where confidence, alignment, and destiny collide for a brief, holy moment.
The thing that happens: A draft sails through untouched.
What it feels like: A divine beam of validation straight to the nervous system.
What my brain says: “Don’t look at me. I’m levitating.”
When creative alignment is this clean, the entire content strategy moves faster. And when a draft glides through untouched, you know the brand’s voice finally found its pulse.
5. “We trust your instincts.”
Nothing accelerates good work like the removal of fear-based micromanagement.
The thing that happens: They hand over creative control.
What it feels like: Someone just gave me the nuclear codes.
What my brain says: “Excellent! Time to misbehave responsibly.”
Trust is the secret ingredient of every powerful creative partnership. When instinct leads and fear steps aside, the work becomes something it couldn’t have been any other way.
6. “We paid your invoice early.”
Early payment is the closest thing the marketing industry has to a love letter. This line signals a client who understands the emotional and operational realities of creative work. It’s so rare, it’s like catching a leprechaun and a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
The thing that happens: The ACH fairy blesses me instantly.
What it feels like: Financial foreplay.
What my brain says: “Stop…you’re making me blush. Do it again, I dare. you.”
Respecting timelines builds the foundation for long-term client relationships that thrive.
7. “Can I say something mean about a brand I saw?”
Brand gossip is where strategy gets spicy—because every roast reveals a preference, a pattern, a red flag, or a secret aspiration.
The thing that happens: A client initiates brand gossip.
What it feels like: Lowering into a jacuzzi full of secrets.
What my brain says: “Yes, darling, yes. Confess. I adore ethically sourced slander.”
Discerning what you hate is one of the fastest routes to defining what your brand should become.
8. “Can you make it punchier but softer, but also sharper but funnier?”
This sentence is the creative brief equivalent of a Rubik’s Cube. Clients ask this when they know what they feel, not what they want, which is normal.
The thing that happens: They ask for a physics-defying revision.
What it feels like: Creative parkour in heels.
What my brain says: “It’s time to bend the laws of language.”
This is where writing becomes alchemy: turning contradictions into clarity.
9. “Can you burn the brand down and rebuild it?”
This question signals a brand on the brink of reinvention. Clients only say this when they’re finally ready for truth and transformation.
The thing that happens: A full-scale rebrand is green-lit.
What it feels like: Me, at dusk, holding a metaphorical blowtorch.
What my brain says: “Light it up. Rise from the ashes, baby.”
Rebrands don’t start with visuals. They start by letting the old story die.
10. “I screamed when I read the copy.”
A primal reaction is better than any KPI because it means the message bypassed logic and hit emotion first.
The thing that happens: A client loses composure in delight.
What it feels like: A tiny, tasteful creative orgasm.
What my brain says: “Good. Scream louder.”
When writing sparks emotion first, brand storytelling becomes unforgettable. Words that trigger a physical response help the audience feel claimed by the work.
11. “We want a new brand era.”
Brand eras mark identity shifts: intentional, emotional, powerful. This sentence means a client is ready to stop iterating and start reinventing. Era changes are where strategy and artistry collide.
The thing that happens: A client announces they want to pivot.
What it feels like: Glitter cannons going off.
What my brain says: “I’ve survived 12 Taylor Swift eras, 9 Gaga reinventions, the spiritual fever dream that was Ke$ha’s debut, I can shepherd you through whatever era you dream of.”
A strong brand strategy defines each era with intention, not accident. Era changes are how brands announce their next chapter to the world and to themselves.
12. “We added your ideas to the deck.”
When a client says this, your words have officially entered the bloodstream of the brand. Seeing your language in someone else’s slide deck is a strange and gorgeous honor.
The thing that happens: A client proudly shows me a slide full of my own words.
What it feels like: Spotting my child in a school play being the absolute star.
What my brain says: “Look at her… she’s perfect… she got that from me.”
This is what real creative impact looks like: ideas that travel further than you do.
13. “We were terrified to send this, but…”
Nothing says “we care about this work” like trembling feedback wrapped in apology-colored bubble wrap.
The thing that happens: A client prefaces feedback with an apology and a gulp.
What it feels like: A baby deer approaching me with trembling legs.
What my brain says: “Spit it out, angel. I promise I’ve survived worse! I once worked with a CMO who referred to himself as a cult leader.”
Healthy creative collaboration makes even scary feedback feel safe. When feedback happens inside trust, even fear becomes fuel.
14. “We tried using AI, and now we need this fixed.”
This is the new “we tried to cut our own bangs.” Clients say this when they realize convenience can’t replace craft, and let me tell you—this is happening all the time now.
The thing that happens: The client shows me a document written by a robot having a temper tantrum.
What it feels like: Opening a haunted Google Doc.
What my brain says: “I should really think about adding that I perform exorcisms to my LinkedIn profile.”
AI can generate copy, but only humans can resurrect meaning.
15. “Can you just do a quick copy ‘operation’?”
Here’s the truth: Clients only say this when they have no idea how bad the document is. A “quick operation” is never quick; it’s the creative equivalent of walking into a room labeled “minor issue” and finding a patient coding on the table.
The thing that happens: A client rolls in with a document they swear needs “just a tiny fix.”
What it feels like: Being handed a scalpel and told, “Don’t worry, it’s only mildly critical.”
What my brain says: “Prep the OR, scrub in, page Dr. Bailey, and someone play ‘Chasing Cars.’ This copy is circling the drain.”
Editing is always surgery, whether the client realizes it or not.
16. “We want to reference a trend, but not look like we’re chasing it.”
This is the tightrope every modern brand must walk. Clients ask this when they want relevance without desperation. Trend navigation is equal parts timing, tone, and restraint. It’s knowing when to drill down and knowing when to tap out.
The thing that happens: Client wants trendiness without the thirst.
What it feels like: Trying to catch a wave without getting wet.
What my brain says: “I’ll make you look culturally fluent but not terminally online.”
Mastering trends isn’t only about timing—it’s about confidence, too.
This Is Why I Do What I Do and Why It Works
These micro-moments are more than punchlines: they’re the coordinates of my creative brain. They’re the sparks that ignite ideas, the nudges that reshape strategy, the quiet invitations into deeper, weirder, truer work.
This is the alchemy behind the output. This is the electricity under the surface. This is the cartwheel-powered creative process I live inside every day. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
If your brand is ready to evolve, unravel, reinvent, resurrect, or just get beautifully unhinged in the right direction, you know exactly where to find me.